


To build a family

by TibiDecet



Series: That one SBI d&d AU (now SBI&CO) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Humor, Magic, More Chapters Will Be Added, and tags will be updated as I add chapters, more characters will be joining too!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26582125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TibiDecet/pseuds/TibiDecet
Summary: What happens when you mix an elven prince travelling the world, a tiefling bard with a passion for good stories, and an infamous assassin?Friendship bracelets.This is, at the moment, just a collection of short stories related to the aventures of Phil, Wilbur and Techno. Futures chapters will include: a warlock with a knack for getting into trouble (and a business inclined patron), a fox that sells possessed artifacts, a really sweet and completely innocent cleric, and an artificer that just really likes bees.[Me: Updates will be once every two weeks, probably, due to classesAlso me: three chapters in a single day, a week, then once every other day]
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit & Tubbo, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: That one SBI d&d AU (now SBI&CO) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003593
Comments: 188
Kudos: 953





	1. Wilbur Soot

One doesn’t get far being an adventurer without being a light sleeper, especially when you’re travelling alone. 

For Wilbur, it is a blessing and a curse. It means he’s able to survive multiple attempts on his life - he’s not to blame for all of them, it’s just that sometimes he writes songs about people, and sometimes he improvises, and sometimes he sings before he thinks. 

It also means, unfortunately for him, that it takes him a while to get used to travelling with other people. He loves everything about it, from the security to the companionship, but he can’t for the life of him get a good night of uninterrupted sleep: whether it’s Phil stoking the dying embers of their campfire, or Techno cleaning his throwing knives … Heavens above, even Tommy mumbling to himself as he mends his own cape after getting almost-stabbed for the fourth time this week keeps him awake until exhaustion takes over. 

But this night, it’s not the gentle humming of an elven song, or the rhythmic *schling* of a whetstone on a sword, that wakes him up: everything’s quiet, then he feels something fly in the air next to him and land with a dull thud in the ground. 

Will’s eyes are immediately open, hand flying to the small knife he keeps under his own pillow - just to be sure, just to be extra safe - and he rolls to the side. 

He thanks his darkvision, because it’s still the middle of the night: right next to where his head was there’s a knife, stuck in the ground and glinting in the moonlight. 

Wilbur’s mouth opens to alert the others, but his call dies in his throat as he notices a lone figure sitting against the tree. 

Somebody just threw a knife at his head, and Technoblade, notorious thief, assassin and all around badass adventurer, is just … sitting there. His eyes are open, Wilbur can see it clearly, and he stares at him for a moment before turning his head towards the rest of the group. He seems to be fiddling with something - for now, Wilbur only knows that Techno likes keeping his hands busy, and is apparently unable to keep still; give or take a couple of months of travelling together, he’ll have learnt that Techno fidgets when he’s nervous, and he’s always nervous around new people. 

Techno turns back around, and gives a meaningful look to the knife still stuck in the ground. 

Wilbur sighs. He’s awake now, thanks to the adrenaline of an expected attack, so he grabs the knife and wrenches it out, meaning to throw it back to the noisy assassin that decided to wake him up in the middle of the night for … apparently no reason? 

But that night there’s a gentle breeze blowing, so the moment the knife leaves the ground, whatever it was keeping in place starts flying away - it’s only thanks to Wilbur’s excellent reflexes that he manages to grab it. 

For a moment, he thinks he’s dreaming. Mostly because he wishes he was, but also because he’s currently holding one of Technoblade’s throwing knives in one hand, and a bracelet in the other. 

He blinks. 

The bracelet is still there. 

He looks up, and manages to catch Techno quickly turning his head away from him, as if he hadn’t been staring at him the whole time.

Wilbur *really* wants to sleep. 

The bracelet in his hand is hand made. Not because it’s badly made, but because there are daisies woven between the yarn and cotton strings, and if he turns his head to the left he can see a path of those same light blue daisies - now slightly smaller than before. 

Now, Wilbur is not unused to having small trinkets. He has a bad habit of stealing small things to remind himself of where he’s been, where he’s played, things he’s done. But this is definitely unusual. 

What is this supposed to mean? Is it to thank him for saving his ass earlier that morning, when Techno got too cocky and got himself shot so Wilbur had to jump from his vantage point to bring him back to life? Or is it because the bard had said he needed something to remind himself of their win against the drake that had been plaguing the surrounding forest?

Wilbur is too tired to think about it. 

“Cheers, Techno. Thanks.” He says, voice slurring just a bit as he gives the thief a two fingered salute. Techno nods back silently, and Wilbur lets himself fall back onto his bed - being careful not to stab his pillow with his horns - and tries to fall asleep again. 

  
Wait. 

  
Wilbur’s eyes open suddenly as his brain rather kindly decides to bring forth a memory of his first meeting with Techno. 

Back when it was just him and Phil, walking from town to town, looking for easy coin. They had been looking for a tavern in the middle of the night, because Phil had said he’d never had pumpkin pie, and the kind lady who had been hosting them - as a thank you for getting rid of the ghost hunting her scarecrows - had insisted they wait until she finished cooking and have a slice. 

It had been worth it after all, as they’d walked with an extra spring in their step with a stomach full of homemade pie and fresh milk, and travelling at night was not that big of a problem for an elf and a tiefling. 

Still, Wilbur should have known not to get too relaxed, because as they turned the corner into a ghostly empty alley, they had found themselves no longer alone. A lone figure stood, partly hidden by shadows, but there was no way to mistake their identity. 

“Hey there, friend!” Phil had exclaimed, tone amicable despite the evident tension in his posture - Wil could clearly see his knuckles turning white from his grip around his staff, and he hoped the assassin in front of them couldn’t.

“Your Majesty.” The infamous Technoblade had answered, with a slight head tilt that Wilbur had assumed was to be interpreted as a bow. Then, he’d turned his piercing light blue eyes towards him.

“Mr. Soot. I hear you’re looking for companions. I’m looking for … Colleagues. I have a job to do, and it requires more than one person.” Wilbur’s tail had swung wildly for a moment, both in excitement and indignation. On one hand, this was *the* Technoblade, infamous assassin, notorious thief, wanted in most reigns, the only being able to easily succeed at what most people would never dream of being able to do. 

On the other hand, there were surely less fear inducing ways of asking for help, right? Couldn’t he have met them at the tavern, in the morning? Possibly surrounded by other people, where they could feel safe rejecting his offer, instead of fearing a knife in the back the moment they turned?

“What kind of job?” The bard had asked, steadying his voice despite how the thief’s stare had seemingly locked him into place.

“A good one. Mostly a well paying one.” He’d replied shrugging, seemingly uncaring of how tense the air around them was as he spinned a throwing knife in his hand. Wilbur dared shooting a look to his right, where Phil was now standing a tad more relaxed, and raised an eyebrow. This could be their big breakthrough, a chance to make a good name for themselves - they’d kept mostly to themselves for almost half a year now, doing odd jobs here and there, slowly making their way across the region … How would it feel to sleep in a decent tavern for one night? What if they could finally afford a horse? Heavens above, did Wilbur wish he could buy a new pair of boots.

“We’re in. We can talk in the morning to go over the details?” Phil had asked, sounding as tired and hopeful as Wilbur felt. The bard guessed that, as a king travelling for the first time in his life under false pretences, Phil was the one between the two of them who was less used to sleeping on the floor and eating “whatever”. 

As the blade was thrown in the air, there was a sudden flash of pink light and then it was gone, vanished in the darkness. 

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then he’d disappeared too, hopefully not hearing Wilbur’s scoffed “showoff” and Phil’s chuckles. 

  
The next morning, slightly more rested, they were in the middle of greatly missing the previous day’s pumpkin pie over their meagre portions of stale bread and warm mead, when the whole tavern went impossibly quiet. There was a beat of silence as every head turned towards the newcomer, then Phil leaned back with one arm stretched out and waved. 

“Techno, mate! Come join us!” The thief’s ears twitched in their direction, then he immediately started walking towards them - pace steady and sure, despite how everyone was staring at him. 

In the bright light of the middle of the morning, surrounded by other adventurers and staring down in disgust at their breakfast, the infamous Technoblade looked a lot less intimidating, if one was able to look past the entire armoury he carried with him. If he hadn’t been an actual, literal hellspawn, Wilbur would have been put off by the bright pink skin and pig-like features of his face, but the bard himself had horns, blue skin and a tail, so he couldn’t really judge anyone based on looks. 

Technoblade looked like he was about to say something about their breakfast, but Phil evidently dissuaded him by stuffing his face with what remained of his loaf of bread - which was a chunk about as big as his fist, and even the thief looked slightly impressed. 

Wilbur took a deliberately slow sip of his mead as Phil munched away, eyeing the rest of the tavern as if to dare them to keep staring at the three of them. 

By the time he was putting down his drink, the bloody knife from the night before was back, this time being balanced on the tip of Techno’s finger as he stared at it with a bored expression.

Wilbur placed his tankard on the table and the thief’s eyes met his for just a moment before going back to looking bored with his balancing act - which Phil was rather enjoying, from what Will could see from the corner of his eye. Then, just as suddenly as the night before, Techno’s eyes switched from light blue to a shining pink and his blade disappeared. 

“So … What’s your opinion on friendship bracelets?" 

Wilbur had reared back and immediately choked on nothing, while the utter bastard on his right burst out laughing.

"What?! What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!” Wilbur had demanded, still breathless, after Phil had half-heartedly patted his back. 

Techno had shrugged, seemingly awkward, Phil had laughed more before steering the conversation towards the topic of their job. Wilbur had thought it weird, a quirk of a lone wolf that was so unused to companionship that they would just say whatever came to their mind, but he’d always been able to switch his focus to business rather fast. 

  
Meanwhile, in the present day, Wilbur was currently biting his own finger in order to keep the hysterical laughter threatening to spill. Eyes almost tearing up, shoulder shaking - had the thief been serious from the beginning? Was this a joke, a callback? It couldn’t be, it was too well made to be a joke! Not that Techno was known to do anything half-assedly … A muffled giggle escaped him, and Wilbur quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but apparently nothing flew past the infamous Technoblade. 

“Shut up.” His gruff voice had come suddenly, still from his position against the lone tree in the clearing they’d chosen to rest in. 

Another giggle escaped him as he sat upright on his cot, his tail swishing on the ground excitedly - and probably filling his cot with dirt and leaves, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. There was something, some warm, fuzzy feeling invading his chest, waking him up even better than the threat of an attack as he held the bracelet to his chest.

“Aw, Techno! But I thought we were best friends!” Wilbur protested in a fake offended tone, the warm feeling spreading as he heard the thief scoff and then chuckle lightly, shaking his head. 

“We are, it’s final, you’re not getting out of this.” Techno replies, waving his knife towards him in a way that would have been menacing if he hadn’t just said the sweetest thing Wilbur’s ever heard - for now, because this is just a step into their friendship; Techno has a way of being devastatingly earnest about his feelings in the best and most unexpected ways, and Wilbur doesn’t know really know what he’s in for yet. 

Instead, Wilbur just clutches the bracelet to his chest and chuckles, thankful he’s not choking on his emotions yet - he already knows he’ll be writing a song about this, can feel the energy of it under his fingertips.

“You neither, man. I’m counting on it, you big nerd." 

Techno scoffs, waves him away.

"Do I get to keep the knife, too?” Wilbur asks, because he’s never been able to shut up, and there’s no way he’s going to sleep after all this. 

“Sure, whatever. I have more." 

"Thank you, best friend!" 

Turns out Wilbur can actually fall asleep after all that, because the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is Techno’s annoyed groan and the smell of daisies.


	2. Philza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syke! I figured I'd try to catch you all up with the chapters since I've already posted some on Tumblr.  
> I'll post the next one next week probably? I already have two chapters ready so ...  
> But after that I'll go back to the regular schedule!

Despite what most would think, His Majesty, King Philza of the Greenwoods, does not miss the commodities that come from being royalty. He does not miss them at all, but it would be better to specify why.

He did enjoy sleeping in his wonderfully big bed, with as many soft as cloud pillows as he wished, with sheets made of the finest silks in the summer and of the warmest wool in the winter. But he very much prefers the current warmth of the campfire in front of him, as he moves around a log and watches sparks fly off into the night, and the familiar weight of the head resting on his lap - Tommy had insisted on listening to stories of his time back at the castle, and then he’d promptly fell asleep halfway through him talking about his horseback riding classes.

He did like taking care of his horses, endless stables with elven bred mares and elks. He remembers Roheryn, his first pony, a docile animal that grew up with him, and Firefoot, a fiery mare whose temper he could hardly match.

Still, they are no match for Milo, Barnaby, Peter and Fraiser, the four horses they managed to buy after successfully freeing a nobleman’s son. Sometimes Phil catches Wilbur talking to his own as if he could respond; one of these days he’ll tell the young bard that, being a druid, he’d be able to translate sweet Milo’s answers.

Phil loved the food they would cook in the kitchens, how his nanny would sneak him sweets when he was a child, or how the head chef had caved in and started teaching him how to bake bread after years of insisting it wouldn’t be proper for a king to spend his day in the kitchens.

These days he’s especially thankful for all the recipes he’d been taught, as food is not that easy to find when you’re travelling through endless enchanted woods. And nothing beats the joyful expressions colouring the faces of his companions every time he announces he’ll be making his special soup.

The one thing he misses are his friends back home, the people he grew up with. His travels have brought him far away, but they still hold a special place in his mind. Under his linen shirt - once a pristine, perfectly clean thing, now stitched up with different coloured threads and forever stained on his right side where a wolf managed to bite him - rests a thin chain of mythrill, where he keeps what he holds most sacred: his wedding ring, the one he will wear once he’ll come back, once his travels and trials have ended.

He never fiddles with it, never exposes it to the light in hope time and weather won’t ruin its beauty. Not that its meaning would be lost, even in the hundreds of years Phil will hopefully live, but he did spend two whole years crafting each and every silvery strand - he’s not about to let his hard work go to waste. Still, its weight is a constant source of comfort, and even in the worst moments it gives him strength.

A quiet huff of breath next to him catches his attention and, a moment later, Techno lets himself fall down at his side.

While it’s good to see him so relaxed, less careful with every move - hands no longer constantly busy in order to keep his mind at bay - he can sense that the thief is anxious: his shoulders are set in a tense line and he seems to be trying to sneak glances at him before quickly looking back towards the rest of the camp. So, Phil waits. He can give him the time he needs, after all he’s already slept the four hours he needs to survive.

A couple of minutes later, Techno’s rough voice pierces the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.

“Give me your hand.” Is not exactly what the druid had expected, but he extends his hand nevertheless, raising an eyebrow curiously. Not even a second later, there’s a small green and golden bracelet in his palm.

“Listen, you’ve saved my bacon more time than I can count, and we’ve worked together a long ass time, so now we’re friends. I just decided it, there’s no take backs.” Techno states, adopting what Phil has now learnt to know is the tone of voice he uses when he’s trying to be intimidating due to his own nerves.

Phil looks down at the bracelet in his hand, picking it up in order to better study it. It’s objectively beautiful, the multiple threads of coloured material having been woven by hand, with an added string of gold-like material and a handful of deep red beads.

But most of all- the most stunning thing is that he’s holding something Techno made, for him, as proof of their friendship. It tugs at Phil’s heartstrings, making his throat squeeze around his words.

“Techno, mate, this is stunning. I- I will keep it forever. Thank you.”

One of the thief’s eyebrows raises as he looks back at him, staring quietly as if expecting a joke or a quick negation - as if, Phil thinks to himself.

For a moment they’re both silent as Phil tries to convince the man sitting next to him of how much he appreciates this token of friendship, after months of fighting side by side.

Techno’s mask of impassibility breaks first. He huffs out and turns back towards the fire, but Phil’s an elf: he can clearly see the crinkle in his eyes and the smile that breaks open his face, from how it glints in the feeble light, to how one of his tusks pushes up into his cheek.

“Alright, enough with the sappiness. Go to sleep or something, you’re distracting me from keeping watch.” Techno grumbles, using a stick to move around the embers in the campfire.

With a small chuckle, Phil nods and doesn’t point out that he’s the one who’s supposed to be keeping watch, opting instead to figure out where to keep this precious gift.

While it takes him a while to make up his mind, once he’s made his choice he knows it’s the right one. It’s almost surreal taking hold of the mythrill chain, because he’s so used to it resting over his heart, but that is also why he’s chosen to tie the bracelet there.

Phil has been travelling for a while - some years now. He has met many people, fought many fights and visited many places, but he knows this is it.

The brilliant thief next to him, the wonderfully talented bard sleeping on the other side of the fire, and the little maniac sleeping with his head in his lap.

These are the companions he will spend the rest of his travels with, for as long as they’ll have him.

Next to him, Techno chokes on seemingly nothing.

“You alright?” Phil asks, turning a concerned eye towards him: the thief is a couple of shades lighter than usual and is waving a hand towards his chain.

“You’re _married_?!” He yells under his breath, voice reaching a pitch that Phil didn’t expect he could.

Tommy grumbles in his sleep, apparently disturbed by the sound of Techno’s protest, but he seems to fall back asleep rather quickly once Phil places a reassuring hand over his curls. The boy mumbles something about bees before rolling on his side, head tilting up into his hand, and Phil has to quickly dodge one of his horns - still growing, but nevertheless rather sharp and definitely solid.

Once his movement has stopped, Phil turns to Techno with a small smile.

“Not yet. It is tradition in my family, that one must prove their worth before taking their spouse’s hand in marriage.” He explains, Techno’s expression turning from confusion to understanding.

“And that’s why you’re travelling. Is it an arranged marriage?”

Phil can’t help but laugh a little, despite the ache that burns deep into his chest, shaking his head as he clutches the ring in his hand.

“She is the love of my life. My light, my sun and my moon. I’ll spend the rest of eternity with her, for as long as she’ll have me. My heart is hers, as is my whole being.”

A beat of silence passes, as Phil stares into the moonlight, looking into the same sky that hopefully his love is seeing too, feeling the weight of his affection lift him up towards her. One day, one day they’ll meet again, and they’ll be able to finally officiate in front of the whole world what is already true. And then, they’ll be able to travel together - oh, how his companions will love her, how she will care about them.

King Philza does not miss anything but he does miss her.

“I- I’ll take it as a no on the arranged thing, then. I guess.”

This time, when Phil bursts out laughing, it’s loud, joyous and brings tears to his eyes.

It also makes Tommy wake up with a yell and Wilbur throw his pack at him - a cursed protest for him to _shut the hell up, we’re trying to sleep_ \- but that is absolutely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I really do hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> As always, if you ever want to chat you can find me on Tumblr or Twitter!


	3. TommyInnit, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of Tommy's part! It was super funny to write, and the ideas just kept coming!   
> I'll post all three chapters today because I just posted the third and final one as a fill for the WritingTober ahah  
> I hope you'll enjoy! Please consider leaving a comment or a kudos if you do, it always makes my day to see that people appreciated it <3

_You should kneel down soon, kiddo._ The voice in his head tells him. Usually one would not have voices suggesting what to do or do not, but that was the life of Tommy since he’d agreed to eat a bloody apple and suddenly gained horns and a tail. That was just something that happened to him nowadays. But again, one was not necessarily made to follow said suggestions: he usually either ignored whatever had been said or sassed back - that was just the kind of relationship he had with his patron.

 _I’m not a child, old man._ He answered, in his mind in order to avoid Wilbur’s curious glances, and only heard a distorted chuckle in response.

 _I’m just trying to help you out! You should, totally, profit is guaranteed!_ Tommy rolled his eyes, huffing out in annoyance at both his insistence and the warped voice he was currently talking in. Go figure that, of all the demons he could have made a pact with, Tommy had chosen the most annoyingly nagging one. Who even used their godlike power to change their voices to unnatural pitches?

 _Come on, Tommy! Trust me on this! Come oon!_ The dragged out “on” was extremely aggravating, but just because his patron was bored he wasn’t going to amuse him. He had more important things to do, like planning out what to do once they’d reached the apparently haunted mansion in the middle of a forest they were heading towards. If one was to ask Tommy, he’d say that it was just the job of a bunch of thieves, maybe an enchanter, using the abandoned mansion as a base of operations and scaring away wandering people. Everyone had seemed to agree with his idea - hell, even Wilbur had said it had been a good hunch!

 _Five … Four …_ Didn’t he have some other poor soul to torture? Some unlucky fellow to trick into a deal? And was the echoey voice necessary? Did he really need to sound as if he was shouting from inside a cave?

_Come on kiddo- Three … Two … Almost there! One …_

“ALRIGHT!” Tommy yelled out, stomping his foot down in anger, flames bursting out his hands as his eyes flashed golden and - despite what his stubbornness told him - he bent down.

He hadn’t even fully bent his knees when an arrow lodged itself into his hood, which was slightly raised in respect to his head due to the quickness with which he had moved.

“Ohshit-”

“Who the fuck is attacking us?” Techno asked over him, tone impassible and as monotone as always, holding another arrow just in front of his face; he seemed more bothered by the thought that someone was trying to attack them than the fact that somebody had shot an arrow at him.

 _You’re welcome, kid._ His patron quipped, finally in his normal voice, before retreating to the back of his mind as Tommy summoned energy between his hands, ready to blast into nothingness whoever had been dumb enough to try to kill him.

Tommy wakes up one morning, and the first thing he sees is the sky. This is because, since he agreed to sell his soul for instant magical powers, he has a distinctively cumbersome pair of horns, which prevent him from sleeping on his side comfortably. A small price to pay, since honestly, who even has the time to spend years studying when you can just shake hands, eat an apple and be set for life?

Since they’ve stopped being a couple of stubby nubs on the side of his head, he also has to wear a pair of muffs over them, in order to avoid destroying his pillow in case he moves more than an inch while he sleeps. He’s gathered enough evidence of how much damage he’s able to cause to last a lifetime, so he endures Techno’s chuckles at his hand-knitted, sock-looking muffs - damn Wilbur for using wool, it’s not like his horns ever get cold.

Anyhow. The first thing he sees, is the sky. The second thing he sees is a knife sticking out of the ground next to his head.

Tommy stares at it, figuring he’s either still dreaming or his patron has gotten better at his dream-messages - on top of annoying him during the day and giving him advices once every blue moon, he also enjoys sending him extremely cryptic messages through dreams, which Tommy usually forgets by the time he’s awake.

He figures it has to be a dream, because sticking out of the ground next to his head is a perfectly clean and sharpened Technoblade Dagger. Thin, sleek, made in a peculiar metal that looks completely black at all time, as if it was capable of absorbing light. Rumors say it was forged with the core of a fallen star; others say it’s made of the blood of his fallen enemies which Tommy finds extremely disgusting and definitely unpractical. The handle is simple, with no added leather - Technoblade always says that leather stains easily and is more a bother than anything actually useful.

But the thing is, that’s not all.

Tied to the knife is also a string of white, orange and red strings. A small onyx bead is woven inside.

 _Aww, look! You got yourself-_ the voice in his head starts, but Tommy is quick to put a stop to it.

 _Shut up, this is important._ He states, tone firm and serious, just like he was when he demanded his pact a few years before. His patron and him joke around and annoy each other a lot, but he knows that tone, so for the next few moments everything is quiet. Around him, the only sound is of the wind, flowing through the leaves, and the crackling fire, courtesy of Phil, who is probably preparing breakfast for all if the delicious smell wafting over is any indication. Tommy hears everything and nothing around him, while all his attention is focused on 1) the token of friendship innocently sitting next to him 2) trying not to yell out at the pure joy he is feeling right now. This is approval. This is acceptance. This is the confirmation that he is, in all ways, part of this team.

_I know, kid. I’m glad you found yourself some good friends._

Tommy huffs out a breath, unable to stop himself from smiling - he does not need his patron’s approval, but it is still very much appreciated. The demon’s helped him a lot, in his own weird demonic way.

The warlock snatches up both items and mutters an excuse as he quickly makes his way towards the river next to their camp.

The first thing he needs to do is find a good place to keep the bracelet.

The thing is, he can’t keep it on his wrist. They get into too many nasty places, he is definitely *not* going to let it get soiled by dirt, blood or sewer water - Tommy also does not want to think about the sewers ever again, but that is a rather common and expected reaction. His ankle is also not a good choice, because of all the walking and trudging in the mud they do.

He’s not going to keep it in his pack either, he want it close. He’s sentimental about it, sue him.

 _Do not even start._ He thinks intensely, anticipating what his patron could have said about his previous thought, but he gets no answer. Whatever. It’s better that way.

His arm, he figures, could be the best choice. The bracelet seems to be long enough for him to be able to tie it around his upper arm, and that way his shirt would keep it covered constantly. Not to mention, his cloak also rests over that area. It would be safe and sound, and nobody would be none the wiser!

Tommy sits down by the river and starts working on it: he struggles a bit with actually tying the knot to keep it in place, but after a couple of minutes he’s sure it will hold.

Then, satisfied with his work, he stands up and tries to throw the knife in the air and catch it. He does end up letting out a small yelp and letting it tumble to the ground, but he’s sure he’ll be able to pull it off in time.

“Technoblade!” He calls out loudly, coming back to the round space they decided to call a camp for a night. The thief doesn’t even look up, but he does let out a questioning “hmm?” as his ears twitch up.

“Thank you for the wonderful gift! I’ll use it wisely!” Tommy exclaims, pointing the dagger straight at his face. Techno turns towards him, nonplussed, and stares at him through the dagger. A moment passes, then Techno raises an eyebrow and moves the point of the blade away from his face with his index finger.

“Great. How about you start by remembering not to point it at allies?”

“Pfft, of course, of course! It was merely a display of how much I’m already able to use it! I bet I could even defeat you, now!” He declares, turning towards Phil’s already ready breakfast and digging in, ignoring Techno’s rebuttal of him needing to train for many more years in order to have a chance at defeating him, and most importantly Phil’s amused and endeared expression.

The druid can read him too well: he already knows. For what Tommy knows, being an elf he probably has a way of seeing the bracelet under his sleeves from like, the way the material bends around it.

But as he scarfs down his food, he’s already hatching a plan. Because while he wants to flaunt his newly gained social status, he does also want to keep this … for himself. This isn’t something he wants to share with the world. The fact that he went from being an annoyingly persistent kid to a friend of Technoblade is a personal success. It’s just … His.

What he can do, instead, is brag about having one of Technoblade’s daggers. And what if he exaggerates a bit on how he got it? Who’s going to correct him and say that it was actually just a mean to deliver to him a friendship bracelet?

Nobody, that’s who.

Of course, he needs just one test to make sure it’s going to work. It takes some time, but they eventually reach a small town. Wilbur takes care of securing a room for them all, and a discount in exchange for him performing.

Then, one late evening, they’re waiting for their food to be delivered at their table, and Tommy is idly playing with Techno’s dagger - he has now gotten extremely better at it, and can now not only flip it in air, but also balance it on the tip of his finger.

A bulky man with a coarse looking mustache brings them their dinner, and eyes Tommy as he keeps playing.

He meets his eyes, and his plan falls into place.

“Did you know, good sir, that this is one of the infamous Technoblade’s daggers? My prize for besting him in a duel.”

Next to him, Wilbur chokes on his beer and spits it all over his fresh loaf of bread. Phil is laughing as he pats his back, and the bartender eyes him suspiciously, apparently ticked off by his teammates’s reactions.

“Is that right?”

“Absolutely! Isn’t it, Techno?”

Everyone falls silent - except for Wil, who keeps coughing up beer for a while longer - and turns towards Techno, who seems startled at the sudden amount of eyes on him. This is it, the moment of truth. Everything comes down to what Techno answers now, because this could either be Tommy’s best, most glorious moment, or a simply rather awkward instance. A moment passes, then-

“Absolutely.” Techno’s monotone voice answers, and the suspicion on the bartender’s face changes to surprise, then impressed respect as he nods towards Tommy.

“Good job, kid.” He says, then leaves their table, and Tommy couldn’t be happier.

The game is on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out @/artlandom 's stunning animation for this chapter!   
> https://twitter.com/artlandom/status/1308049111921369088?s=20


	4. TommyInnit, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are slight trigger warnings for this chapter: there’s characters getting injured twice, and mentions of blood.   
> There’s also a brief case of d&d level of violence. 
> 
> Let me know if I should add more or underline possible triggering parts!

For the next couple of months, rumors of the kid that beat Technoblade - the shadow thief, the most infamous assassin of the realm - spread like wildfire. 

At first, it’s just Tommy coming up with stories. 

He vaguely mentions besting Techno in hand-to-hand combat, then says he’s had it since they met and it’s the reason why he was allowed into the group. One time, he states he stole it from under his nose. Another time, he tricked Techno into drinking a sleeping potion and pocketed it as he was unconscious. 

His personal favourite is: one time, as they were sparring, he backflipped over Techno’s head and grabbed the knife from his very hand; Techno was so impressed by his moves that he gifted it to him out of respect. Phil wheezed so hard when he heard it that he lost his voice for almost half a day, and because of that nobody believed his story, but it was still worth - just for hearing Phil laugh. 

Then one night, in a squallid tavern, Will sings the song of the young warlock who tricked the thief, sold his soul just to steal a knife, and it kicks off a whole new wave of rumors. 

And everything goes perfectly well. 

Everyone focuses on the rumors, the stories. Their popularity increases, their job offers multiply. 

Tommy gets to show off half of his present, and get to keep what’s really meaningful all to himself. 

It works perfectly well, up until it doesn’t. 

With fame comes a peculiar kind of danger, one that is born from the mind of really, really dumb people that like to think that if they’re prepared enough, they might have a shot at defeating them - as if an ancient black dragon hadn’t already tried his best against them and failed. 

Still, this one particular time, the whole team realises quickly that whoever is trying to get to them has come prepared. 

They attack in the middle of the day, which is unusual but efficient: everyone in the team can see in the dark, so attacking at night would be useless, or even detrimental if whoever was attacking had to rely on torches. 

They also attack in the middle of the street of a crowded town. Techno and Phil had realised they were being followed a couple of days prior, and they’d decided to head to the nearest village in hope of covering their tracks, or at least buy themselves some time to find out how many and who was tracking them, assuming whomever it was wouldn’t attack them out in the open. 

Instead the first knife flies directly towards Phil during a late morning, while they’re looking for a place to eat. Phil dodges, then curses and raises a hand to still catch the dagger, which would have otherwise hit a farmer he had been talking with - blood splatters on the poor man’s face as Phil yells at everyone to get away. 

With the crazed crowd of a Monday market, most of the team has to restrain themselves. Tommy can’t really summon a demon in public, Phil won’t be able to transform into a bear and Wilbur will have to rely on his swordmanship, instead of destroying his enemies’ eardrums and minds. 

Still, it’s not like they don’t have anything else at their disposal. 

The Tommy of two years prior would have never been able to survive, but while his stories of beating Techno are mostly false, the two of them have been sparring for a long time. Techno is an incredibly strict teacher, but that just means that he has more control of where his spheres of fiery eldritch power land. 

He sees Phil direct a handful of people away from the danger, while Wilbur makes sure to attract most of their enemies’ attention by hurling insults at them - one of them stumbles back, hands moving up to clutch at their head as Will’s words echo inside their mind. 

There’s a flash of colour, then a figure falls to the ground: Techno stands behind them for a moment before throwing one of his daggers at an incoming enemy. 

Seeing him fight is always an incredible spectacle, but this time Tommy doesn’t allow himself to be distracted. 

There’s nowhere to hide in the big, empty square they’re fighting in, and there are still innocent people trying to escape. Phil is expending spells left, right and centre, creating walls and shooting out healing magic in order to prevent people from dying and getting targeted - Tommy sees a figure jump in front of a cobbler, blade drawn, and then lock up, muscles freezing as Phil takes hold of his body with a clutched fist and a shaking arm. Techno swoops by a moment later, taking care of the paralyzed fool before disappearing again. 

There are enemies appearing from all sides, and it gets more and more clear that this is not only a well organized group but also a group with enough money to spend on people willing to be cannon fodder for them. 

Tommy keeps his distance, shoots anyone that approaches him and picks off enemies that threaten his teammates (family) whenever he can. Each time someone falls to the ground, he hears a joyful whoop ring inside his head, usually followed by an exclamation of “another one for my collection!”, and feels his strength increasing - small wisps of flames circling around him, and he knows his eyes are glowing after the fifth one. 

It takes some time - there are a few moments when Tommy knows that if he weren’t so focused he would be getting bored - but eventually the number of goons approaching starts to dwindle, and then stops. Tommy only needs a quick look at Wilbur’s heaving chest, Phil’s limp and Techno’s tired frame to decide he’s going to get up close and personal to finish the last three remaining enemies. 

One would think that someone, seeing a half-demon glowing with fire and shooting spheres of dark red energy, would back off with the rest of his retreating friends. Apparently that is not the case, as one of them is dumb enough to try his hand at fighting him the moment he sees him approaching the group. 

And the thing is, normally Tommy wouldn’t even blink and incinerate the man, but he has been casting a lot more spells than usual in order to keep everything at bay, and he is in the process of shooting a ball of fiery energy at another dumbass cornering Wilbur - who’s clutching at his rapier with both hands, arms shaking with exhaustion. 

So the attack comes out of nowhere, from his left, and he only notices the man when it’s too late: one moment he’s there, the next there’s a thin, vertical gash running from the edge of his elbow up to his shoulder. 

The pain is there, but not much - he’s young, yes, but he’s also been an adventurer for a while - but then he feels a small pressure alleviating from around his upper arm. 

Oh no. No no nononono- 

His mind is suddenly filled with shock. Then rage, as he unleashes the ball of energy he’d been in the middle of casting right into that bastard’s face with a loud snarl - one for him, and one just a moment later straight to the leg of the bastard threatening Wilbur. 

But he’s not even aware of that because this guy *just broke Techno’s friendship bracelet*.

The stranger falls to the ground silently, lifelessly, but Tommy’s already sitting down on the ground, frantically tearing at his cut open sleeve as he mutters curses to himself, tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. 

A moment later a pair of hands are on his, and he looks up at Phil’s worried but reassuring eyes. 

“Don’t worry Tommy, it’s just a scratch-”

“No no no you don’t get it! He- he cut the bracelet!” Tommy protests; he hates how his voice pitches up and how Phil’s eyes soften, but at that moment Techno and Wilbur join them, also looking worriedly down at his bleeding arm, and Tommy slips the bracelet free of his arm. The onyx bead is still hanging on by a thread, and the young warlock has to carefully keep the whole thing in the palm of his hand - the edges where it got cut are already undoing themselves and Tommy is so *angry* about it-

“You kept it?” Techno asks, having the gall to sound surprised, and Tommy can’t help but sputter in indignation, waving his injured hand around - because his non injured one is cradling the broken bracelet, despite the frustrated hum Phil lets out as he prevents him from cleaning the wound. 

“Of course I did! What did you think, that I threw away your gift?! I might be rude but I’m not an asshole!“ 

"Point taken.” He mumbles back, and after a moment of quiet awkwardness Wilbur elbows him in the side. The two of them share one of those silent eye-conversations that they love to take part in, which Tommy is absolutely not jealous of. Then Wilbur claps his hands together and announces he’s going to call the guards and make sure no townsperson got injured. 

Techno lets himself sit down silently as Phil grabs his arm and starts cleaning up the gash. The thief lets out a tired sigh: Tommy can see from the corner of his eye how tired he is - being the only one of the team used to up close, one on one fighting in urban streets, probably made him feel like he had to compensate for all three of them. Which is true, he indeed had, but Tommy knows he’s probably more tired from the adrenaline and anxiety that though caused than the actual fight. 

“… I’m sorry it got cut up. I thought if I kept it here it would be safe.” Tommy comments at one point, while Phil is unrolling a gauze from his healing kit - the fact that he’s not using magic to close the cut is a testament to how hard that fight was. Or maybe he’s just being cautious, in case the goons change their mind and decide to come back, or in case there are more coming soon.

“I mean, we can always make another one.” Tommy’s head snaps up so fast that he almost gets whiplash.

“We can?” He asks, unable to mask the excitement and awe in his voice - it’s worth it, because it does bring a small smile to Techno’s face. Phil finished tying the bandage around his arm at that moment, letting out a huff of breath and standing up.

“After we’ve gone back to the tavern and eaten. We’re laying low for a while.” The elf states, staring both of them down as he offers Tommy a hand to help him up. 

“Alright, _dad_.” Techno sasses, rolling his eyes, but Phil’s face just lights up and the thief instantly looks pained and regretful.

“Right, I forgot that’s not an insult to you.” Phil’s grin just gets more brighter as he pats the thief’s back and nods towards where Wilbur is approaching them, followed by a handful of guards.

“Come on, _sons_ , let’s go get your brother.”


	5. TommyInnit, part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part, with lots of fluff!
> 
> This has also been posted on my WritingTober story, where I post each day a new fill for a prompt list! Come check it out if you want, there are many different things in there ahah

That is how, about four hours later, Tommy finds himself sitting on his bed, legs crossed and fingers tangling in the threads he's trying to weave together. 

It's a mix of light blues, pinks and reds that Techno called "a weird choice, but whatever floats your boat", which had sent his patron into hysterical laughter. Tommy had hoped he'd been sarcastic, as he'd colour-picked from Techno's own outfit. 

But one could never be too sure with the Blade: he was a cryptic man, with a cryptic past and an unwavering unwillingness to share anything about what he thought about, anytime, about anything. 

Which was fine. Tommy liked guessing, and he considered himself smart enough to be able to start picking up clues. Most of the time.

He was no Phil, who was apparently able to understand everyone, everywhere, at any time. Even animals, too, which had been a concerning discovery. Not the fact that he could understand and be understood by animals, that was perfectly fine once considering he had horns due to making a literal deal with a demon, and Techno was half pig. It was just that Tommy had found out Phil could speak with animals by finding the elf in deep conversation with a passing squirrel - who had apparently been extremely rude and stolen some of the nuts Phil had been gathering. The disagreement had been resolved by splitting the nuts evenly, as the squirrel had had a family to feed. 

The thing was, Tommy had had a chance to talk about the infamous friendship bracelets with the other two as they'd walked back to the tavern, and by now he knew that all three of them owned one. But what Phil hadn't neglected to comment on was that - to his knowledge - Techno didn't own one. Which made sense, on a certain level. He was the one making them, and he seemed to own the strings to make them. Phil had been meaning to buy one to gift him, but he's said he knew it wouldn't have been the same. And he couldn't ask Techno where he could find the materials needed and keep it as a surprise. Not to mention that he didn't know how to replicate the intricate weaves and knots of the bracelets; he could try, but he knew he wouldn't be able to easily succeed. 

Which left Tommy with the perfect chance. 

The plan was simple. 

Techno had offered to help him rebuild his bracelet, but he’d never explicitly said if Tommy was going to weave his own or if Techno was going to make him a second one. 

So, once they were all fed and satisfyingly comfortable, Techno would take out his threads and start working on it. Then, with his usual enthusiasm, Tommy would ask if he could also help. Maybe by learning how to weave together bracelets himself. 

Techno would humm, but probably give in after a bit of insistence. He never really enjoyed verbal conflict, and Tommy was counting on that. 

Then everything would be set! Tommy would choose the colours for Techno’s bracelet, make it with his help, and everything would be good!

As of right now, most of the steps in his plan have gone off without a hitch. 

The only thing not working perfectly well is his own skills at weaving - maybe once he used to have an artisan’s hands, but now they’re clumsy, less sensible. The effects of not being used to his newly found powers at first had been to constantly - and accidentally - set his own hands on fire. With permanent scars up to his elbows and a handful of points where the burns charred away his sensibility, he’s not much one for delicate and precise work. 

But Tommy is nothing if not determination personified, so he grabs each strand with too shaky hands and does his damned best. 

Techno is sitting across from him, also on the bed, mirroring his posture and slowly explaining each braiding step. His voice is lower than usual, a side effect of being extremely tired, but he’s not snappish or strict. He’s unexpectedly calm and mellow: Tommy wonders if it’s the exhaustion or just how Techno behaves when they’re not in life-or-death related situations.

All things considered, once he understands what he has to do, the slow, repetitive movement becomes extremely soothing. He can see Techno doing this to relax in the few moments of downtime their lives allow them.

They're not alone in the room.

Phil is meditating on one of the other two beds in the room. He’d been drained after the fight, looking after them all and taking care of the few civilians that got injured due to the attack. 

After they’d gotten back into the room, he’d disappeared for a moment in order to go bathe, then returned, given them all a final look and then promptly passed out on the bed with a smile on his face. 

Wilbur had made sure to fix the covers around him. 

The tiefling was currently also sleeping, but he was stationed on the same bed Techno and Tommy were sitting on. It made for a bit of a cramped situation, but Techno had stated that he wasn’t going to move anymore if it wasn’t to go to sleep, and Wilbur had said that he always took the bed closer to the window. 

So there he was: curled up between them, one leg on Tommy’s lap and his back pressed against Techno’s side. 

If Tommy had been any less observant and in the mood for a discussion, he would have mentioned how Techno could have easily moved half a meter away in order to be extremely more comfortable, or how Wilbur usually just chose any random available bed. 

But he was tired and he had other objectives - he was already planning on bothering Techno, getting him annoyed would only be counter-productive. And Tommy was also quite observant: he still remembered how Techno had jumped into a blow aimed at Wil’s throat just a couple of hours earlier, saving his life and efficiently dispatching of the brute trying to kill him. 

Everyone was still feeling a bit messed up after all those close calls, there was no need to state the obvious. Especially when saying nothing meant Tommy could feel the warmth of Will’s still very much alive body against him. 

It doesn’t take much time; they’re bracelets after all, you can only make them so long. 

Tommy stares at the one in his hands, and is suddenly filled with so many contrasting feelings. 

Joy is the first, of course. He’s been able to achieve so much since he left his hometown, and everything he’s achieved has been due to his own determination and intelligence. He might not be the smartest person ever - he can name at least one, even though that doesn’t necessarily mean he will - but even he can’t deny how well he’s been able to play the cards he’s been dealt. 

Then there’s shock, at the realisation that he has actually become friends with the legend he used to hear people talk about in hushed whispers while he was still living in his hometown. 

Melancholy is another: a part of him longs for what - who - he left behind. 

Then he feels like he needs to get better at making bracelets, and maybe sleep for a couple of days. His back is hurting and the scabs on his arms are already itching up a storm and it is "bored patron with too much free time" levels of annoying. 

As Tommy stomps down the protests of his patron inside his own head, he hears Techno hum lightly to catch his attention. 

"You're done? I finished yours. Unless you prefer to keep the one you made yourself." Techno comments, offering the bracelet he's just completed. Wilbur shifts slightly as he's lightly jostled when Techno reaches towards Tommy, but he goes right back to sleeping. 

Tommy gives him an honest smile and a heartfelt "thank you", then wastes no time in grabbing his new friendship bracelet: a stunning thing in black, red and orange that looks as fierce as he is powerful. 

"And here, this is yours." Tommy says, after a moment of unabashedly admiring the stunning handiwork he now owned. It wasn't like his old one, but it still felt the same - the meaning of it was intact, and the shape and colours were similar. One could even say that now it meant more: after all, they'd made it together, in what nobody could deny had been a true bonding moment.

Tommy's hand, holding the bracelet he made, stretches out towards Techno.

There's a distinct pause as Techno's hands hovers in the air and his eyes widen in what looks like pure shock - Tommy has *never* seen anything like it, Technoblade is never surprised. And yet.

"Uh?" 

Tommy decides it is getting a bit too warm in the room, as doubts and worries start filling his mind: what if he doesn't like it, it looks so bad compared to the ones Techno made, after all it's his first try, he should have asked for more string to practice and made him a really good one. The young man pushes the bracelet into Techno's hand hastily - the sooner this is over with, the better. 

"We figured you didn't make one for yourself, so I made you one. Consider it as from all of us. Now you're *our* friend, Techno, and there's nothing you can do about it!" He concludes with a proud grin, hoping it masks his internal worry. Thankfully, he's still fearless enough to keep eye contact, because that allows him to see Techno's face simply melt as his fingers wrap around the bracelet once, then open up to allow him to study it closely - Tommy would call it reverently, but then his patron would laugh again.

"... Thank you." Techno murmurs a few moments later, and with that all of Tommy's fears and doubts are smashed like fragile glass, scattering into the nothingness. A bright smile opens up on his face and he's unable to stop himself from beaming as he lightly punches his friend's shoulder.

"No problem, big guy. ... Now, where do I put this so that nobody accidentally breaks it again?" He asks, tone light and humorous in hope of exiting quickly the sweet moment they'd entered, which was turning into awkwards at the speed of light.

"Well, if you have like a necklace, you could tie it there and keep it hidden under all your shirts." Techno drawls out, sounding more and more tired as he goes on. 

Tommy decides it's as good a time as any to finally hit the hay, so he stands up and stretches his back - reveling in the satisfying pops that follow. 

"That is a smart idea, big guy. Have you been sitting on it for a while?" Tommy jokes, starting to fix his bed. 

"Well, it was actually Phil that did it first. He tied it to the same necklace he keeps his engagement ring on."

Tommy chuckles, Phil always knows best- his arm freezes in the air, one hand still holding his pack because he'd been meaning to look for something he could use as a necklace but now his brain is just static. 

He turns back towards Techno, who is staring back with a mix of sheepishness and confusion. 

"What- what do you mean engagement?" Tommy asks in a feeble voice and Techno just rubs the back of his neck shrugging. 

"He's supposed to get married when he goes back, apparently."

Tommy starts gesticulating wildly, pointing first at Phil, then at Techno, then at the world around them as he loudly mumbles his way into about twenty different beginnings of sentences before his shoulders drop and he shuts his mouth.

A beat passes. 

And to be honest, Tommy is too tired to be thinking about this, but-

"What do you mean go back? Is he gonna leave us?" He asks, and Techno looks extremely uncomfortable on the other side of the room. Instead of an answer coming from him, the voice that speaks first comes from behind Tommy.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Tommy. If anything, I plan on bringing you all for the ceremony." Phil mumbles, scratching his stubble as he sits up on the bed. Damned elves and their need for just a handful of hours of sleep, now Tommy has to feel awkward for nothing.

Phil stands up with a groan, then stretches; taking a couple of steps forward, he nods at Techno as he claps a hand on Tommy's shoulder. 

"Help me push the beds together?" 

"Only if Wilbur gets up, I'm not moving the bed with him on it." Techno deadpans, moving to the bed Phil's closest to in order to help him lift it - they're not getting thrown out of the tavern for being too loud at three in the morning. 

A deep chuckle comes from the ball that is Wilbur's not-so-sleeping body, and his performance is betrayed even more by how his tail starts swishing left and right. 

"But what if I asked please?" Wilbur says, one eye peeking from his crossed arms. 

"Then you're staying there with that bed." Techno replies instantly and a moment later the bed between him and Phil is lifted. 

Wilbur huff, rolls out of bed, waltzes towards Tommy - messes up his hair just because he's in a good mood - and quips back:

"You're no fun, Technoblade." 

A couple of minutes later, once they've all found their places on the bed, Tommy is resting with his head against Phil's chest and his tail wrapped around Techno's leg - a mirror to Wilbur's which is tied around the arm slung over his side. 

It's comforting, and warm, and Phil's carding his hand through his hair. 

Techno's new friendship bracelet is an unfamiliar feeling pressed against his chest, but he knows he'll get used to it. 

Stifling a yawn, Tommy whispers:

"Congrats on your marriage, big guy." 

Just so that Phil's wheeze is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.


	6. Survival (A Tale of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross posting this, as this is a fill for MCYT WritingTober, and also a request I got on Tumblr!   
> I've been asked about my personal headcanon for Hbomb94 in the d&d au, and it spawned a character creation analysis and this short fic ahah 
> 
> There will be more character coming soon, too, so I hope you'll enjoy me expanding the universe a little bit! <3

Hbomb has been his name ever since he left his hometown. 

It didn’t serve any specific purpose, other than hiding his true name - not that it was impossible for an arcane user to simply open the backdoor in his mind and take a quick peek inside. But still. 

It was a nice and simple way to separate his past from whatever adventures he was going to embark in, for better or for worse. 

H must admit that he’s not proud of everything he’s done in his life. 

Sometimes, coin and situations bring people to do things that they wouldn’t have normally done. He’s not fond of killing and the hits he gets are few and scattered around his life, like somebody stumbling a handful of times during a marathon, no matter how much they stick in his mind, refusing to let him go. But jobs are jobs. 

And at least of that he is proud. He gets the job done, and he is well known for that. Not that he is generally well known, but still. He has gained enough renown that he doesn’t have to actively look for jobs anymore.

Still, the thing is. 

Hbomb has been his name for almost forever, and yet that one time he almost doesn’t recognise it. 

To be fair, the voice that calls it sounds more like a chorus of many different voices, speaking in multiple languages - H knows five different languages, ok, he’s not dumb, but he has a really hard time comprehending what it’s being said - and all coming from the same point a few feet behind him. 

It’s both a whisper and a song, and to be completely honest all it does is creep him out, jump in his skin and hurry to sit up, hand moving to grab his longbow. Which is supposed to be right next to him. 

Instead all he grabs is grass. Bright purple grass. 

H blinks, confused, only then noticing that there is light around him, yet he’s sure he only went to sleep a couple of hours ago. 

Then he looks up, towards where the voice came from, and he nearly screams - nearly being a key word, as his instincts tell him to scream and freeze at the same time, so what he ends up doing is let out an extremely high pitched “eh” sound that lasts about a couple of seconds. 

The scene in front of him is both stunning and extremely disturbing. 

Over fields of purple grass shines the light of two red suns, bright over the backdrop of a pastel orange sky. In the distance, a forest, but instead of dark green pines - or even bright purple trees- , all he can see are huge brightly coloured mushrooms.

And then, a few paces away from him, a figure sits, cross legged, gently floating over the grass - the strands seem to reach upwards towards them, as if attracted by some sort of gravity. While H is familiar with tiefling, the ones living in the material plane usually have only one set of horns, none of which pulse with silver light, and one set of eyes, instead of having most of their face covered in them. 

Somehow, without the aid of any eyebrow, the figure seems amused. Maybe it’s the unnatural curve of their smile - are those additional eyes on the palm of their hands, or just tattoos? H really doesn’t remember drinking that much the earlier night. 

“I’m going to excuse the damage you did to my creation, since you seem to be a bit lost. Don’t you know where you are, child?” 

A flower takes flight from one of their horns, turning into a butterfly midway. H has  _ no idea _ where he is. 

The chuckle that resonates in the air around him sounds like wind chimes, and for a moment he’s reminded of an old friend, an old companion that he used to travel with, a bright eyed warlock who loved to wear flowers in her hair, simply because they would turn into butterflies as she fought. 

H’s lips part in a small “oh”, as if he’s understood something, but to be honest he’s more lost than before. Surely the being sitting in front of him isn’t-

“No, I am not. She is one of my children, still. You came … recommended. Your skills have been evaluated, your deeds have been found worthy.”

That certainly piques his interest. Choosing to ignore how the individual in front of him is currently reading his thoughts - which is quite rude in his personal opinion -, he’s always been fond of Shubble, and she did seem like a reasonable and trustworthy person. Not to mention her cool as hell powers. 

Still, one should be always careful when dealing with mind-reading beings.

“What do you mean? Worthy of what?” 

“Capabilities. Powers.”

“Like?”

“Like you’ve never seen.”

“Would you be able to … elaborate? Please?”

“No.”

Hbomb is going to have a headache. Normally, he’d loathe such a conversation, and he would probably be quick to walk away. But it’s not like he can leave. 

“Oh, but you can. I just brought you here to let you know you’ve been chosen.”

The cheshire smile on the being’s face is deeply worrying, especially since their mouth doesn’t seem to enjoy following the usual anatomical constraints one would expect to find in a mortal. And apparently now he’s signed a contract with them? When did he sign? Can he un-sign? 

Another chuckle fills the air, this time sweeter and warmer, like a hug on a winter night. 

“There is no need to be afraid. You’re not bound to me, not like your friend is at least. Try to focus. Find the connection inside of yourself.”

H isn’t a stranger to meditation - his parent, being an elf, had taught him everything he’d needed to know. So he stares at the creature in front of him for a moment, waiting for any sign that he maybe probably shouldn’t do this, then he closes his eyes. 

It takes him a moment, but once he finds it, it’s impossible not to see it. 

There’s a thread inside of him. Like a string of silk, hanging, floating at the center of his chest. It floats towards his hand as he becomes aware of it, tangling between his fingers, moving on its own as if it were water, or wind. A snake coiling around in his hand. 

While his eyes are closed and his mind is focused, the being’s voice resonates inside his mind, clear as the crystals their eyes were made of. 

“Be good. Good luck, plane traveler.”

There’s a quick pulling sensation around his gut - not a bad feeling, per se, but certainly an unexpected one - and then.

Hbomb’s eyes open to the darkness of the night. He’s back in the same place he went to sleep in. 

But now, there is a slightly luminous tattoo on his right hand, which gives off a feeble light: a purple snake, coiling around his fingers, and a remotely familiar drawing of multiple circles on his palm. 

Digging around, looking for what the circles represent, takes a while. 

But he does remember talking, a few months back, with an arcane scholar with a passion for creating things out of thin air. 

That, on his hand, is a drawing of the planes of existence. 


	7. Tubbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo.
> 
> This is both another fill for MCYT WritingTober and a Tumblr anonymous request!   
> I really hope you'll like it, there are quite many characters that will be added to the au during this week as I got a lot of requests (I'm celebrating 200 followers on Tumblr ahah)!
> 
> Also, I'm working on making it more than just a random array of ideas and characters, so hopefully once my classes aren't keeping me busy 24/7 I'll manage to do something cool (fingers crossed ahah)

There is nothing quite as sad as a bard with a broken guitar. 

It happens during a fight, a sadly-not-that-unusual spar with a rogue elemental that had decided to mess with a village just because they had been bored. 

_ Absolutely unrelatable. _ Tommy's patron had commented, the absolute hypocrite.

Still, the overall business had been quite straightforward: get to the outskirts, find the bad guy, kick their ass, profit. 

Nothing they hadn't done before. 

And like everything they expected to go smoothly, things went wrong. 

Tommy would say that thankfully nobody had gotten hurt, and everyone was perfectly fine, and they'd gotten a particularly big reward for something that standard. 

Wilbur would say, instead, that his guitar had been irreparably damaged, its neck snapped in half and body ripped apart, shards laying on the ground like blood, a gruesome heart-wrenching sight that would haunt him until the end of times. 

Tommy's patron had warned him that his second-degree cousin was a bit dramatic, but maybe it was just standard bard behaviour. 

To be fair, the guitar was mostly gone. 

Wilbur had picked up as many pieces as he could and stuffed them in its case, but no amount of mending cantrips had been able to fix it. Phil had  _ tried _ , but he didn't know how guitars worked and it was hard to discriminate where each shard needed to be placed in order to mold it all back together, like a freakishly hard jigsaw puzzle. 

And Wilbur had been extremely proud of his guitar, as apparently it had been a gift and a memento of his grandiose adventures. Sentimental values and such. 

Not that Tommy could say anything about it, not after the friendship bracelet incident. 

For about a week, every time they stopped by a town, they looked for a carpenter first, a musical expert second, and an arcane expert third. 

They never managed to fix it. The thing was, it happened to be a weirdly specific and skill-needing task, so nobody they found was either confident enough or prepared enough to do it. 

So they moved on, and the bard's lament continued. 

  
  


It gets to the point where one night, the innkeeper approaches their table during one of Will's performances - the tiefling had insisted in keeping the tradition of offering his musical entertainment in each tavern they resided in, now with just his voice and sometimes his flute, but being unable to have music as he sang and vice versa was truly different. 

That night, Wilbur is singing a ballad so sad and tear-jerking that the innkeeper actually approaches them and asks if everything is alright. 

"Oh- oh, yes, my apologies, everything is alright. -" Phil instantly responds, looking quite awkward "- It's just that his guitar broke, and we haven't been able to find anyone to fix it. It was of great personal importance." 

The innkeeper nods understandingly, an expression of deep empathetic sadness on their face, before their eyes light up. 

"You know, I might just have what you need. You guys are lucky, the Fixer Upper just arrived a week ago! If he doesn't know how to fix it, nobody will." 

After obtaining a brief explanation of where to find this infamous "Fixer Upper", who apparently works for free and will probably ask for food, shelter or protection as he moves to the next town over, the innkeeper leaves them be, assuring them that it'll be the solution to all their problems. 

Phil finds himself, despite the overall skepticism, feeling a bit of hope. If nothing, at least he might be able to convince Wilbur to buy a new one - make new memories. 

Even Wilbur is less enthusiastic than usual when they tell him, but after all they've been redirected to plenty of miracle workers that turned out to be unable to do anything.

The only thing that feels a bit off, is how Tommy's patron keeps giggling in his head - the way he does when he knows something Tommy doesn't. It's a bother, but Tommy's too tired to try and investigate. 

The "Fixer Upper" is staying in a farm just outside the village, apparently sleeping in the barn. 

He comes to the village every couple of months, apparently used to circling back around the same couple of dozen of places, constantly travelling from one to the other and helping out whoever needs something fixed. The innkeeper that recommended him apparently had him fix their son's prosthetic leg, which has been working better than ever. 

The fact that he never asks for compensation is what keeps them all on the defensive: nobody does anything for anyone without coin on the line, so Wilbur is already somewhat expecting to find yet another old relative making deals with young children. 

Yes, he is still a bit bothered by the fact that his second degree cousin spends half of his time inside Tommy's head. 

No, he's not going to bring it up. 

Approaching the barn, an increasing cacophony of sounds greets them, and Wilbur starts looking less and less convinced and more and more like he wants to leave - not to blame him, the noises are definitely not reassuring. 

They enter the barn, where one side is perfectly fine and the other has a bunch of mechanical and metallic parts strewn on the ground. 

At this point, Techno has a hand on Wilbur's arm, either to instill some confidence in him or to keep him from running away with the shattered guitar.

Then all of them stop, frozen in their tracks, as something completely out of the ordinary appears from behind a wooden wall - that is quite an extraordinary feat, considering the peculiar array of people they are. 

There's a huge block of metal, vaguely rectangular shaped and painted black and yellow, floating towards them. It has what looks like the spinny part of a windmill rotating at embarrassingly high speed over it, and the noise it makes vaguely resembles that of a low hum, or maybe a buzz. 

Two large semi-transparent circles - its … eyes? - emit a soft light that shines against Phil's palm as it bumps against him, the elf cooing with an adoring expression. 

"Hello dear, you're not one of nature's children but you are alive, aren't you?" 

Even Tommy, who has no idea how magic or nature works - he made a pact with a demon for a reason, alright? - can see that it's an impressive display of craftsmanship. 

Wilbur is looking quite confused on Phil's right, but he's no longer needing Techno to keep him from bailing on the whole thing. And to be honest, if somebody's able to make …  _ this _ , maybe they'll be able to fix his guitar. 

"AH- Visitors! Sorry, I hadn't heard you coming in-" a short figure stumbles in sight from behind a pile of apparently garbage.

The short man, who appears to be human, had wild brown hair, somewhat darker in certain spots where black oil seems to have gotten stuck. There seems to be oil and soot all over his clothes and hands, where bandages cover his fingers.

On his head reside a pair of goggles - multiple lenses of different thicknesses and colours appended to its sides - and he's holding a wrench as if they'd interrupted his work, which would explain the worrying noises. 

The mechanic has a bright welcoming smile on his face when he appears, which immediately falters the moment he sees the infamous mercenary group, expression turning to fear. Which is understandable, given their fame of being quick, efficient and rather costly, unless they're working for the good of all.

Then it turns to shock, when Tommy takes a tentative step forward from behind Phil's back. Which is less understandable. 

"Tubbo?" Tommy's voice calls, almost breathless. The boy takes off his goggles and blinks. The wrench he was holding clutters to the ground.

"Holy shit, Toms."

The warlock lets out a strangled yelp, then blinks out of existence in a puff of bright red smoke, reappearing right in front of the other boy and picking him up in a bone crushing hug as he laughs - more joyous than Wilbur's ever heard him - and the two of them fall to the ground.

  
  


When Tubbo is still a teenager, he loses his best friend to the prejudice and scorn of their hometown. 

All they need to see are the buddying horns on his forehead, the flames licking at his fingertips, the reddening skin around his eyes, and they banish him. 

They come for him, in the middle of the night, and find nobody but his parents in his home, because Tommy has always been smarter than he let on. 

Half a day earlier, Tommy had said his goodbyes to the last few people that deserved to know where he was going; never once asking for his parents' forgiveness for something he always knew he was going to do - Tubbo had never seen his best friend more sure of anything, even at the worst moments, when the ritual was about to begin, or the few first weeks when he had to use all his coins to buy salve for burns.

And so Tubbo was left alone, left behind. 

It lasted for one day.

Tubbo had never been particularly gifted in the craft his parents had tried to teach him - glass blowing was definitely not his forte, his hands too strong, his grip too tight - and he'd never shown any latent arcane power. Books on the arcane were long, boring and complex, the glyphs all looking the same and mixing with each other on the page. 

But that didn't mean anything to him: he was going to do great things, with or without magic, and he was going to find his best friend again. 

Fate wanted to keep them apart? Tubbo was going to stare Fate in the face and laugh. 

If the glyphs and arcane chants of the mages weren't going to cooperate, he was going to force his hands into the fabric of the arcane plane and pull magic out by himself. 

And again, why stick to prayers and dealings with other entities when he could just make it himself? 

To be fair, it does take him a lot more time than the couple of weeks of research and half-and-hour-deal that was Tommy's experience. But Tubbo's always been a quick learner.

The day he finishes his big project, he leaves his home, ready for adventure. 

He has a map of the coast, enough coin to pay for emergencies and a backpack full of the tools he needs to offer his assistance to whomever will need it. 

His marked path will bring him around the same towns. Tommy is bound to pass by at least one of them during his travels. 

Tubbo's going to be alright. 

  
  


Tommy's eyes are absolutely not, under no circumstances, shining as he tries to squeeze the life out of his best friend. 

Tubbo is just laughing, which is quite rude in Tommy's personal opinion, he should be struggling to breathe due to his impressive strength.

"Look at you! You made it!" The mechanic cheers, squeezing tighter - which, ouch, when did he become strong, it must have been all the working with metal, this is the worst possible outcome. Tommy lets him go for a moment, leaning back to splutter and wave wildly at the mechanical bee still intent on bumping its head against Phil's hand. By the Nine Hells, Tubbo made a living bee with the attitude of a puppy out of metal. 

"I made it?! You made bees!" Tommy protests, feeling a swell of pride for how far his best friend has come. On a completely unrelated note, there must be light shining insistently in his eyes. 

"I know! Aren't they cute! Ah! Let me introduce you to them!" Tubbo exclaims, hurrying to stand up - nearly elbowing Tommy in the gut - and grabbing his hand so that he can drag Tommy towards the bee from earlier. 

Then he stops in his tracks - which makes Tommy slam into his back and get oil stains on his favourite shirt - as he realises there are three other people in the room, all staring at them with varying degrees of amusement. 

"So, what just happened?" Wilbur asks, looking quite shell shocked. 


	8. Fundy & Niki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, new characters! 
> 
> Fundy and Niki have both been in the character rooster for a while, but I'd never gotten around to writing for them ahah Thankfully I got the perfect occasion in the form of a Tumblr request ahah
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you all for the amazing support, comments and kudos, I love every single one of you <3

It starts like this: the whole gang is looking for a new job to tackle, with Techno, Tommy and Tubbo looking at the town's mission board and Wilbur and Phil needling the town's guard for more high profile tasks. 

Half an hour later, a bored and disappointed trio meet up with a radiant Wilbur and an impressed Phil.

They have a job and the pay is five times higher than normal. 

Apparently some dumbass has been running around the county, scamming nobles with fake artifacts and cursed precious objects. The nobles are mad, they want their coins back and the scammer in jail - or possibly worse -, and they are willing to pay an embarrassingly high amount of coin for it to be done quickly and quietly. Quietly being the highest requirement. 

And that is how the SleepyBois start tracking this infamous scammer down. 

First, they find all of the victims. 

That alone takes them a while, because nobles are tricky to navigate and scorned nobles are even worse - and somehow these scammed nobles all seem to be not that good people, if the way they treat the adventurers trying to help them is any indication. 

Still, one may assume that spending a lot of platinum coins on things that turn out to be fake and haunted might make you a bit … confrontational. 

Also, they're going to make a lot of coins out of this job, so it's not like they're going to say anything. 

Then, they buy a new, spotless map of the region with about a quarter of their collective coins - “Philza Greenwood we should have accepted the one from the kind old lady.” “You know that was cursed, we’re not doing this again.” - and start writing down every location hit. 

It’s not that hard, once they put Tubbo to work, to find a handful of possible towns their target is going to hit. 

It's honestly impressive how quickly he's able to narrow their options down, sending Techno and Wilbur out for recon missions to specific locations, guiding the whole team in a weirdly familiar way; straightforward and decisive like Techno, gentle and responsible like Phil, switching between the two attitudes as easy as he breathes. 

Wilbur's only seen him like this when he works on his creations before, and it's amazing how quickly he gets over the initial sheepishness and steps into his role. 

Everything is good and wonderful and he fits perfectly into the team, and this is just another proof of it. 

The only bad thing about the whole situation is how bloody  _ smug _ Tommy is, since it had been his idea to let Tubbo handle the planning - the kid can gloat, Wilbur's got to give him that, even if he is right in doing that.

Ever since the two childhood best friends had reunited, Tommy has been …  _ more _ . Not in a bad way - no matter how much Techno jokingly groans about it -, but it's evident how much there was something weighing on the kid's mind before this. 

But right now it's not really the best time to think about this. 

A couple of nights ago, Tubbo had narrowed the list of possible new noble families that were going to be hit down to a single name. An old timey, very strict and reclusive family, now mainly composed of two grandparents and an impressive array of disowned young adventurers, and workers of all types. Reasons for disowning were many and varied and all a bit ridiculous. 

Apparently having a bad temper and even worse record of mistreating everyone around you was the common denominator for all the people being targeted, alongside having an extremely absurd amount of coin. 

Phil knows, he's seen it in Wilbur's eyes the moment Tubbo told everyone his deductions, that the tiefling would be more than happy with just letting the scammer go with a slap on the wrist. Everyone is slowly leaning towards that, Phil himself is too, but he's not really going to mention that yet, especially as they're all gearing up to stalk the scammer back to their hideout. 

Especially since they can't really let this chance go: the fact that Tubbo was able to narrow their options down to a single family means that if this isn't it, they'll have to start from scratch. 

When they leave the tavern, packed light and ready for the expected stealth, it's a couple of hours before dawn. 

Everyone is thankfully able to see in the dark - even Tubbo, who is a human like Tommy, since he used his knowledge of glass-making and arcane enchantments to forge himself some night vision goggles - and they move quickly in the shadows, their silhouettes hidden even more due to one of Phil's spells. 

This is also the first time Tubbo's bees aren't making any sound - apparently their buzzing is purely aesthetic. 

Reaching the family's manor is not hard nor it takes longer than expected, which is quite unusual considering their experiences. Once they reach their destination, they hide near the entrance then Techno vanishes - probably gone inside the main gates to see if their target has already arrived.

About fifteen excruciating minutes later, Techno reappears, one hand already on Tommy's mouth to prevent him from yelping in surprise and reveal their position. The fact that he is perfectly correct in his assumption doesn't prevent him from receiving a swift kick to the shin. 

"He's inside. Seems human, dressed like a scammer would be dressed. Or a very extravagant seller. Showing off a floating statue." Techno relies the information as he rubs the now sore spot on his leg, side eyeing a very offended Tommy while Tubbo is red faced almost to the point of tears as he desperately tries not to burst out laughing. 

"Good job." Phil confirms, trying very hard to stay focused on the task - this all is extremely useful information, both in case of a possible fight breaking out and because in all the time they've been searching for the scammer, they've had nothing but mixed information from their targets. 

One time it's a sweet looking cleric, another time they're a buff half orc, then it's a tiefling with a missing horn- every time something new, but the only constants have been the extravagant clothing choices and them being a magic user. 

Wilbur punches the air with gusto, conveying silently what everyone is more or less feeling, and then they resign themselves to some uncertain amount of time of patiently and quietly waiting. 

Phil has a spell to hide them again ready for whenever they hear somebody getting close. 

Techno takes the time to meditate. 

Wilbur is tapping a finger against his leg with his eyes closed, so he's probably writing a song in his mind. 

Tubbo is taking notes on his notebook, planning another upgrade for his crossbow.

Tommy is about to vibrate out of his skin. 

Everything according to plan. 

Then, finally, Phil hears footsteps approaching the gates. 

He casts his spell, shadows elongating from the trees they are hiding in, wrapping around them, covering them, fake greenery taking form in front of them- and everyone is instantly on edge. 

"Are you sure you don't want a totem? They're good luck! They'll protect you against evil spirits - those old crooks must be beacons for them!" A quick paced voice reached their ears, and Techno's dagger is already out. 

A much quieter voice answers - only Phil manages to catch the irritated negative answer, but everyone hears the gates being slammed shut. 

There's more footsteps, then their target enters most of their views. 

The man - probably? - takes some steps, back straight and shoulders moving with a light chuckle - when his eyes stray towards them. 

He blinks once, twice, then his eyes switch colour. 

He stops in his tracks. 

Raises a hand and gives a quick wave. 

"Uhm … cya!" And then he disappears, vanishing into thin air. 

Techno curses loudly next to Tommy.

"Wilbur-" 

The tiefling stands up and his eyes turn pure black as he raises a hand towards the place where he disappeared, muttering a quick song under his breath before calling out:

"Tubbo!"

A bolt from the kid's crossbow flies in the direction Wilbur's pointing at a split second later. 

It flies, but doesn't strike true, barely grazing the scammer's jacket as the man moves out of its way. Right into Techno's thrown dagger which hits him right in the side. 

There's a loud, weirdly pitched "shit!" coming from the empty air in the space in front of them, then nothing but the sound of someone fleeing as silently as they can. 

Instead of following suit, like one would expect, the rest of the group turns towards Techno, who's holding his dagger - now back into his hand - and mouthing a prayer against the stained blade. 

There's a light humm coming from nowhere and everywhere that echoes in Techno's mind for a moment, then he opens his eyes. 

"So, do you have him?" Tommy asks, feeling the urge to pursue their target itching under his skin. 

"Yup, I've got him. Nice job with the crossbow, Tubbo." Techno answers, shooting a small smile to his short companion, who shakes his weapon proudly. 

"It's quite easy to shoot in order to make people move a certain direction, you know, once you know what to do!" 

Tracking down the scammer is quite easy now that Techno has cast his tracking spell on him. 

They wait for a moment, reconvene, make sure they have everything they need and then they start moving. 

They don't have to walk much, as Techno lets them know that their target has stopped moving and they're getting closer extremely quickly. 

In the end, it's a small, cute looking wooden house that they reach. It seems small and well kept, with clean windows and bright flowers on the outside. It's a bit hidden amongst a thicker part of the forest, but it gets enough light to be comfortably illuminated. 

Wilbur figures the scammer ran and hid here, in hope of either having them lose his tracks or to maybe use a civilian as human shield. 

Phil gestures towards the house, to which Techno answers with a decisive nod, so the elf approaches the door and knocks. 

"Hello?" A feminine, accented voice answers from behind the door. 

"Hi, I'm very sorry to disturb you, we're a group of adventurers looking for a runaway criminal, have you perhaps seen anyone suspicious running around?" There's a beat of silence, then a long, drawn out humm. 

"I'm very sorry but I don't think I can help you with that? I was busy baking inside, I haven't seen anyone." The voice answers back, seemingly sheepish and apologetic. 

Wilbur takes a step forward, shooting a glance towards a suspicious looking Techno.

"Our apologies, but would you mind letting us rest inside your abode for a little while? We've been out all night looking for clues, and we will pay you for your kindness."

After a slightly longer than expected pause, the sound of keys jingling reachea the team's ears. 

"Oh, yes, of course. It's a bit small here, but- We can make it fit." 

Phil knows enough Celestial to recognise the accent in the woman's voice; seeing her almost aethereal being open the door cements in Phil's mind the fact that yes, the person in front of him is of Celstial descent - that, and the dusting of silver and golden freckles across her face. 

"Oh my, there- there's a lot of you." 

Phil gives a sheepish smile, an apology ready on his lips - she is hiding their target, for some reason, but that doesn't mean he's going to be rude about it - but Tommy is already striding towards the entrance. 

"We'll be good and squeeze together, promise!" He exclaims, quickly hitting Wilbur in the side with his elbow as he passes him. 

The tiefling shoots him a murderous glare, which instantly disappears and turns into a kind smile the instant he realises that the aasimar woman is looking at him questioningly. 

"Are you all part of the same group?" She asks as they shuffle in. The house is slightly bigger than expected, with everything looking both very clean and very lived in - books left open on a table, a chair that hasn't been set back, a blanket thrown on an armchair instead of being folded properly. It's homely. 

There are a couple of colourful looking birds flying around the place, and they instantly flock to Phil the moment he enters the kitchen - following the woman's instructions. To be fair, there are plenty animals hanging out in the whole house: he's sure he heard a squirrel running in the corridor, and there were a couple of tortoises in the living room. 

And then, on the window sill next to the kitchen table there is a fox, sleeping curled up under the sun. Techno, on edge from the tracking and the oncoming social interactions, really envies the tranquil animal. 

"Is there anything you need? Something to drink, maybe? I was making some bread, so-" the woman starts, taking out a still smoking loaf. Everyone but Phil is instantly glowing: how often are you offered freshly baked bread? And mostly for free? That really is something special, that must be surely cherished. 

And yet, Phil is not looking at the woman - who is still yet to introduce herself - but at the fox. Still sleeping peacefully, after they'd opened a single eye at the sound of strangers entering the room. 

"That is very kind of you, miss …?" Wilbur asks, eyes constantly switching between the offered food and the stranger's face. 

"Oh, you can call me Niki." 

Phil moves closer to the fox with a small smile, one bird still perched on his shoulder, and extends a hand slowly, hoping not to startle the animal. 

The fox blinks slowly at the fingers floating right in front of their eyes, then huffs and moves their head so that Phil can start giving them little scratches, tail swishing lazily - all this, while the rest of the team does a round of introductions. 

"Niki, your fox is adorable." Phil comments after a moment, while the others are eagerly helping out Niki in finding a knife to cut slices of bread with and honey, which apparently she makes herself. 

"Ah yeah, thank you. His name is Fungi." She answers with a small smile, making Phil chuckle. The fox's tail keeps swishing from side to side, probably to convey his appreciation of the continuous pets he's receiving, but one of his front legs seems to not be making any movement. A quick, focused, look confirms his suspicions.

"Oh dear, he seems hurt. Let me heal him for you." Phil comments, worry colouring his tone, as he focuses his intent into the palm of his hand, lightly resting on the injured limb. 

As his magic knits back muscle and tissue and blod cells, Phil watches intently as the stab wound shrinks and then disappears. Then, he picks the fox up, cradling him in his arms as Niki gets closer, a look of deep worry on her face - one of the first true emotions she's shown since they got there, Phil notices, which only serves to confirm his suspicions. 

"Oh, thank you so much, I'm so very glad, he just keeps getting into messes!" 

There's a moment of pause, then Phil starts scratching the fox's chin - his tail starts wagging noticeably quicker. 

"Did you know foxes are known for their cunning, but they're actually pretty dumb?" Phil starts, prompting everyone to turn towards him in shock and deep confusion.

Phil merely chuckles.

"You agree, right, little guy? I can see it in your eyes, there's nothing going on in that little brain of yours, right?" He teases, cooing at the little animal before- in a mix of slightly disturbing deformations and a blink-and-you-miss-it transformation - the fox in his arms suddenly enlarges, his limbs elongating and face rounding out. 

Now, this would have probably come as a big surprise to akl but instead it looks quite funny because the moment the small fox becomes a human sized man with for ears, all the instantly added weight crashes into Phil and sends them crashing down to the ground. 

But since they've all gotten used to a skinchanger moving from their human form to their animal one, one way or another, all that remains is the hilarouns scene of a laughing out loud Phil sprawled on the ground with their red faced, extremely irritated target kneeling on top of him.

"Fuck you, man! That was so mean!"

For a moment everyone is just staring at each other, trying to understand what has happened, until when Techno speaks up.

"Well I guess we found our scammer."


	9. Cxlvxn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was also a request from Tumblr!   
> I was asked if Calvin would ever appear in the Au, since I have written about Calvin and Techno training together before, so ... here it is!
> 
> I do hope you'll like this!  
> (Also we passed it already but thank you for 420 kudos, I took a screenshot of that holy moly I love you people)

"So this is the infamous Technoblade."

If anyone had told Tommy that he'd one day see Techno pale, recoil and stand up straight immediately just by hearing some random dude call out his name, he would have called them fools. 

And yet. 

Here they were, all sitting at a tavern, having lunch after they'd finally arrived in a town with actual living people in it - ones that didn't want to kill them, hurray! - just talking amongst themselves, hanging out. 

And then a random dude dressed like a random forest scout just appeared behind Techno, thinly insulted him and that was enough to make the rogue seemingly scared for his own life. 

What the hell was happening. 

Techno had been worried. 

Ever since they'd entered the town. 

He knew that village, he'd spent a lot of time there, training, with one of the most relentless fighters he knows. 

Techno had hoped, hell, he'd prayed that he wouldn't be found, but … there was little he could do to hide, despite the fact that his identity was usually mostly unknown. 

And he knows that voice. He knows it because he can still remember it yelling at him to  _ get back up, you dumbass, it's not sleeping time yet!  _

Techno squeezes into his own shoulders and turns on his chair, ignoring the worried looks of his teammates. 

He stands up, eyes trained to the floor, and then gives a bow so deep he's afraid he's going to fall over. 

"Master Calvin." 

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Wilbur and Fundy's voice yelp out from his right, as if Techno wasn't already regretting everything that had ever led him to that moment. 

And then Tommy bursts out laughing, because Techno's life is an endless array of increasingly unsurprising nightmares. 

As expected, there's a quick pat on his head - followed instantly by Tommy's chocked out wheeze - and by now Techno is starting to consider the benefits of bailing out on them all. 

The only reason he won't is because he knows who's standing in front of him, and he knows very well that he's either not going to make it out of the door, or he's going to be found later. Either way, he's going to have a bad time if he tries to leave. Techno bites his tongue and stands back up. 

As soon as he meets Calvin's eyes, the elf bursts out laughing: first a snort, then a hand flies to his mouth to keep in hiccupping giggles, then the utter traitor lets go and soon after his loud guffaws are resounding in the mostly empty tavern. 

"Oh, oh by the gods, Techno, you look like you swallowed a lemon whole. Cheer up, man, you're not my student anymore!" He exclaims between one chuckle and the other, punching his arm lightly - not that lightly though, he's not able to not be strong and it is honestly so unfair - before moving a chair from another table and joining them. 

"You guys mind? I'd love a chance to catch up with little old T." He asks as he sits down, Niki currently the only one able to answer with a silent nod as the others are all red faced, looking at Techno who's not so subtly rubbing at the newly sore spot on his arm. 

Wilbur has actual tears on his face. 

Techno is so not ready for this. 

"And that's how I found him the next morning, hanging by a foot, tied to the pole, swinging lightly- actually sleeping!" 

Techno has stopped regretting his existence two stories ago, and is currently just trying not to see the expressions on his friend's faces as Calvin mercilessly destroys the image of a powerful and skilled combatant that Techno has spent so much time creating. 

At least it's just them in the tavern. 

That, and Calvin still hasn't proposed a sparring session "for old times' sake".

He counts his wins on the fingers of a single hand. 

Techno had figured that after the first story of how they'd met - he'd stumbled into a guard while trying to steal some food, and therefore gotten himself thrown in jail for a week while Calvin was working for the town's guard - he'd be satisfied with the embarrassment caused but no. He should have known the elf would have thrived off of this. 

An elbow hits him lightly as he's hiding his face in his crossed arms, half lying on the table, having given up on groaning his way out of the situation. When he turns his face, there's a slightly pinched look on Niki's face, her brow furrowed as her eyes move from him to a spot behind him - right where Calvin is. 

Techno gives a quick, tight lipped smile. 

Yes, he's suffering, but no, he doesn't need Niki to kill him. 

Her eyes soften and Techno sees her hand move towards the side - to tap on Phil's arm, who shoots the both of them a reassuring smile. 

"But still- Alright, I'm done torturing him-" Calvin starts a moment later, prompting Techno's shoulders to relax an inch and several protesting groans from people that will perish by his swords before the next morning. 

"Nah, nah. Storytime over. I have to go in a while too. Are you guys stopping in town or do you have somewhere else to be?"

"We're not working on anything at the moment." Phil answers shrugging lightly, then taking a sip from his by now rather warm ale.

"Why? Do you have a super difficult task to give us?" Tommy asks immediately after, leaning over the table - his face is still red and he still has watery eyes from laughing too much, he will be the first to go. 

But Calvin on the other side of the table shakes his head and looks down at Techno. 

"Not a task per se. But a friend is holding a tournament, and I already sent one of my students there to compete, so …" 

Techno's back snaps straight immediately, almost flipping his chair backwards. 

"How big of a tournament are we talking." 

Calvin bursts out laughing immediately - one time, what seems like ages ago, Calvin had taken him aside and explained him that he'd broken his "no favourites" rule for him, only because nobody had ever been able to match his enthusiasm and sheer  _ need _ to be good. 

"Very big. There will be many people, and many important ones. It's organized by this friend of mine and Noxite-" 

A sudden shrill sound interrupts Calvin as Fundy seems to explode and implode at the same time, jumping in his chair as his tail starts thumping loudly against the floor; he's clutching Wil's arm too, in what seems to be a rather painful way. 

"You mean the best magic users in this whole plane?!" Fundy asks, tone a couple of octaves higher than usual and loud enough to cover Wil's tentative plea of "can I please have my arm back". 

Calvin's got a Cheshire smile on his face as he nods - once is enough for Fundy to turn, dead serious, towards the rest of the group. 

"We gotta go. You guys don't even understand, we're going. We are so going." 

About ten minutes later, after getting all the informations they need for this fabled tournament, Calvin stands up - and by force of habit Techno does too, he doesn't want to talk about it - and says goodbye to all. 

"It was lovely to meet all of you, and I'm glad you're taking care of him. The gods know he won't do it himself." He quips, giving him a light nudge which awakens Techno from his awkwardly stunned state - he's still reeling from the fact that he stood up when Calvin did. 

"Accompany this old man outside, will you?" With a small nod towards him and one towards his team, Techno follows his former teacher outside. 

It's almost midday, so the streets are now much more full of people than they were the previous night when they arrived. 

Still, since it's chilly outside, not many stop or care about the two of them. The fresh air is also a good thing. 

When Calvin turns to him, it's with an earnest expression on his face that makes a small part of Techno ache with nostalgia. 

"I'm glad to see you're doing well. When you disappeared, I knew you'd be onto great things, but it's nice to see you got yourself some great friends too." 

_ I missed you too _ seems both too little and too personal. 

_ They're my family now _ feels like too much to admit. 

Unable to answer in a way that seems appropriate, Techno simply nods.

"You know, if the embarassement didn't murder you, Fruit opened a monastery that is conveniently on the way to the tournament." 

Techno rubs a hand over his face, feeling extremely tired but also knowing that he is surely going to stop by. Still, he gives a small smile. 

"I'm glad to hear. Sensei did always talk about wanting to do that. I assume TapL is with him." 

Calvin answers with a small chuckle and a nod:

"Of course, of course. So, am I going to see you at least once before tbe next century?" Techno scoffs, aware that the quip is perfectly reasonable and mostly deserved. He did bail on him without even saying goodbye.

"You'll see me in a couple of months after I've won the tournament." This prompts Calvin to burst out laughing, despite Techno's unimpressed stare. 

"You say this now, but I do have another student fighting there." 

"Do they know about me? Or have you got yourself a new favourite?" Techno asks, crossing his arms over his chest with a daring tone - which is mostly pretend, but still. 

"Well, it depends on who wins. But he does know about you." Calvin answers, starting to move away, walking backwards.

"I see, I see. How do I recognise him, so that I know who to crush instantly?" Techno asks, having to raise his voice a bit in order to be heard. Once again, Calvin is laughing as he answers. 

"Just look for the cockiest half orc with an axe! Good luck, Techno!" 


	10. The Dream Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As fantasy MCC approaches, three (four?) new characters join the party!  
> But not the main party, at least not yet. 
> 
> With a tournament ahead and a storm looming in the distance, I do hope you'll appreciate this <3

George takes a deep breath. 

He is in his study: the smell surrounding him is gentle, of old wood and older books, of the flowers he's growing on the windowsill, of the almost empty cup of tea his tutor insisted he drank before practicing - "you can't do magic on an empty stomach, I will not have you pass out like a fresh-faced student with no experience!" 

It is quite easy to fall back into his own mind, he's done it so many times ever since he started training, but it is never quite easy to-

A light thump, the sound of a small metallic bead hitting his window, prompts him to open his eyes. 

George purses his lips in barely concealed irritation and shakes his head. He has to  _ focus _ . This is precisely why he wanted to skip breakfast, so that he could start before  _ they _ arrived to bother him. 

He's been meaning to try out a new theory - a new spell - for a while, and it requires him to be at maximum concentration because time is a fickle bitch that does not like being toyed with. 

So George closes his eyes again and focuses on the pattern of his breathing. He feels for a moment in complete awareness of every inch of his body, and then he opens his eyes. 

In front of him, millions of millions of shimmering particles float, gently, into the air in front of him, as if somebody had decided to hang an infinite amount of pieces of iridescent glass with invisible strings. George could live a thousand years and never get tired of seeing the figments of reality and specks of possibilities that exist in the time dimension. 

Raising his hand to touch one of them feels like moving through thick molasses after a day of exercise - his muscles protest, scream at him, and it is such a strenuous act. 

But he knows to persist - what's coming is going to be even harder - so after what seems like an eternity, but in reality is no time at all, the tips of his fingers brush against the burning cold of a figment of reality. 

A fraction of a second later, George stumbles forward, head ringing as he's thrown out of his own personal pocket in time. In his ears, the sound of another of those damned pebbles against his bloody window. 

George lets out a loud curse and stomps to the window, opening it with a gesture of his hand and then immediately raising his arcane shield as another pebble flies right at him - as it had been aimed at his poor window once more. 

Filled with a righteous fury, George slams his hands on the windowsill - mindful of his poor and completely innocent Forget-Me-Nots - and leans forward to look down at the recently acquired banes of his existence. 

"See, I told you it would work- George! George wanna come train with us?" Calls out the fighter, waving a hand frantically as he elbows his shorter monk friend. 

"No! Leave me alone!" George yells back, and instantly closes the window and goes back to his position in the centre of the room.

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, and-

Another pebble. He is going to murder them.

"What do you  _ want _ ?! I told you I'm busy!" 

The fighter spreads his arms open - almost hitting his friend in the face, if said friend hadn't ducked down instantly.

"Oh,  _ come on _ George! It's gonna be fun!" 

"I'm  _ not interested _ ! Now, leave before I start throwing spells your way!" 

The monk scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin up in defiance. 

"As if you could catch me! I bet you can't, and you're scared, and that's why-" a pale green hand is suddenly covering the human's mouth, its owner looking awkwardly up at George with a tentative smile - as if that douche's attempt at riling him up could have worked. 

On a completely unrelated note, George has had enough of that conversation. 

"You bother me again today and you  _ will _ regret it." And with that, he closes the window again. 

Definitely not hearing the monk's confused "does that mean we can come back tomorrow?". He is just going to ignore it. 

The moment he turns back around, he almost has a heart attack.

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face, is his mentor. 

"Bloody hell, I didn't hear you arriving." George mumbles, moving to grab him a chair as the older wizard chuckles. 

"I figured, you were having quite a spat." Scott comments, sitting down on the armchair and nodding towards the window, looking more pleased than he should be. 

George gives a scoff, letting himself slump into his chair. 

"They are  _ relentless _ . I don't know what to do anymore." He mopes, but as he should have expected Scott has no pity to share and immediately tackles a new, equally pressing problem. 

"Have you found your teammates for the tournament yet?" He asks, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin in his hand. About two months ago, George had agreed, after ages of declining invitations and rejecting requests, to take part in the yearly tournament his mentor ideated - agreeing only on the terms that he would be able to choose his own teammates. Which is not that unusual, people can arrive with their friends and form a team. George's main problem? His sadly evident lack of friends - at least, friends that will take part in the tournament. 

"Not yet. They're all so … various. And peculiar. I'm-" He halts, hands clasped together and squeezing one another, as if they were stress relievers. Noticing his discomfort, Scott seems to take immediately a step back from his usual flippant persona as his expression softens and his posture relaxes. 

"You're free to speak your mind." He reminds him gently, so George takes a small breath and looks away, towards the door, ignoring the awkwardness of his admission.

"I'm worried my purely academic training will make me underperform." 

"That is possible. It is also possible that you do well. Has the prospect of failure ever stopped you?" Scott challenges, one eyebrow raising in doubt because this is the thing: Scott chose him as his protégé, he knows what George is capable of. He knows him, how competitive he is, how his pride gets in the way despite how much his self esteem is rather low. But still.

"I never had to fail in front of a crowd."

"I understand. Still, I think it will do you good. You should find people to team with, not many get this opportunity." 

" _ I know _ ! It's just that nobody's stuck out! They all seem like incredibly talented people!" George protests, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back into the chair - sliding down a little, so that his chin presses up against his chest. So now he looks and feels like a child throwing a tantrum. Splendid. 

"Well. I think there are at lest two you know by name." Scott notes, smiling with a conspiratory look, and George feels incredibly stupid that he let himself be played like this - did Scott manage to bring the discussion back to the two dumbasses that have been bothering him nonstop for the past couple of weeks?! 

Dream and Sapnap- he has no care for them. None at all. 

"Shut up." George replies weakly and Scott simply laughs - ever so rude, laughing at his self inflicted misery - before standing up. He circles the desk between them and puts a hand on his head, messing up his hair with a chuckle. 

"I have to go, I have matters that await me. But it was nice to see you doing well. I'll wait for the names tonight." Scott's sing-song voice calls as he leaves with a smirk, closing the door behind him.

George lets out a long sigh and resigns himself to morning of meditating and practice. 

It was nice to see his mentor again - he's been worried lately, as if on edge. George figures it's the tournament's fault, but one may never be sure. 

A couple of days later, Dream wakes to the feeling of a pillow hitting him square in the face. Followed by a ripping noise. Followed by the feeling of stuffing falling on his face. 

"Oops-" Sapnap says above him: when Dream opens his eyes, he's holding his pillow, now with a tear in it and stuffing slowly falling on the ground. 

" _ SAP! What the fuck did I tell you about the tusks?!"  _

After their morning workout routine - which definitely does not entail Dream chasing Sapnap around their room as the shorter man jumps around on the furniture to escape, and absolutely doesn't end with them rolling on the floor as the half orc holds his teammate in a headlock - they have a quick breakfast and then hurry to the Academy. 

Today's the day: they will be announcing the teams for this year's tournament, and they both can't wait who they will be fighting with. 

The announcement is a strictly participant-only event, and from that point on they will have about a month to train with their new teammates inside the Academy's facilities. 

The Academy is a huge building that looks and feels like those castles they talk about in fairytales: sky high towers of iridescent colours, with strands of various shades of purple and orange connecting invisible points in space - and perhaps time too. There are stairs and bridges connecting different sections, and Dream knows, from stories told by Master Calvin, that it is as tall in the sky as it is deep inside the bowels of the Earth. A magnificent display of arcane power and architectural prowess. As one would expect from the creators of this tournament, but still. 

The crowd that gathers around the entrance is one of the most varied assortment of adventurers Dream has ever seen, and he knows Sapnap is thinking the same thing because the human's head keeps whipping from side to side as he stares at the people walking by. 

Dream shoots, from time to time, a look around. He's not particularly looking for somebody - he is - and he's not going to let the knowledge of who is competing distract him from trying to do his best - debatable. 

But still. 

All the participants are directed toward the entry, where after a quick scan - to avoid strangers from entering - they manage to get inside the main hall. 

Now, Dream and Sapnap have been told, by their respective masters, about the Academy, but nothing can ever quite prepare you for something this grandiose and extravagant as what they are seeing. 

One would expect a centennial arcane academy, built by two archmages and hosting the best of the magical world in terms of teachers, students and knowledge, to be a stuffy, old fashioned institution. 

One would be quickly proven wrong, as just the entrance hall happens to be a stunning portrait of multiple colours, bright and radiant, with moving paintings of famous arcane masters casting spells side by side with rather sweet drawings of past winners of the tournament hugging each other and holding out their prizes. 

When Master Calvin had first suggested he move for a while to the Academy, in order to fully develop his arcane abilities, he had been skeptical: how could he, when Calvin's house had been his home for so long? But now, seeing all this, he thinks that maybe he could come to like this place. 

At the end of the hall, on an apparently clear glass panel, are displayed the names of each team member. 

With all the chatter and cheers and noises of people looking for each other - some are already leaving, having found what and who they were looking for - it's hard to catch the sound of Sapnap's sudden gasp. 

It is less hard to notice him gripping his wrist and vigorously point at the glass as he lets out an excited laugh. 

Dream follows where he's pointing, and-

" _ George  _ is with us?!" He exclaims, mostly out of pure disbelief, eyes wide open as he looks back and forth between his friend and the list of names on the board. 

"We're so going to win this!" Sapnap answers with an elated smile before bursts out laughing, jumping up and wrapping him in a full body hug - Dream catches him, letting out a small "omf" that is mainly due to the unexpectedness of it all. 

"I can't believe it, we got so lucky!" The half-orc comments, his eyes skimming through the names listed on the board - some he recognises, more or less unfortunately, and some he doesn't.

"I know, right?! -" Sapnap comments, leaning back and letting go in order to nod with his head towards the floating glass.

"Now we just have to find out who Eret is, I guess." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh this is gonna sound real awkward on my part, but. Feel free to ignore this if you want to ahah 
> 
> Dear user Asleepmostofthetime, I deeply apologise to you.   
> I was in the middle of answering your extremely thoughtful and lovely comment when it disappeared, and I don't know why? I took a bit long to answer, and I am very very sorry for that!  
> Your message brought real, actual tears to my eyes.   
> It was so very sweet and kind, and I still think about it to this day.   
> I do hope you're doing fine, and I do hope you've been doing better overall!   
> I had thankfully saved my answer to your wonderful comment, but since I have no way of contacting you I ... I have to write to you here ahahha  
> I do hope this won't upset you! I really feel like your comment was so sweet, I really wanted to let you know how honoured and grateful I am for it. 
> 
> I say this because I remember you mentioning it in your comment, but this is valid for everyone reading, never feel like you're rambling or oversharing: at the end of the day those things gave life to this story - I rambled a lot about dnd to a stranger on Tumblr, and now we're friends! - and there is nothing more heartwarming than seeing somebody be enthusiastic about some silly thing I wrote. 
> 
> And finally, most importantly, and this also is valid for everyone.   
> I do hope you'll be feeling better soon. I know you'll be able to get through what's been keeping you down, and once you do, no matter how you get through it, you'll be stronger. I know you can do it, I believe in you. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed!  
> Let me know if there's anything in particular that you would like to read!
> 
> If you ever want to chat about this AU, you can find me on Tumblr @/tibidecet and on Twitter @/DecetTibi .  
> Also, if you'd like to see some stunning art, check out @/artlandom 's Twitter!  
> They're the main reason this AU exists, and they've made both amazing reference sheets and some INCREDIBLE animations which I highly encourage you to go and see!
> 
> This story is now COMPLETE! But not over!  
> Join me for the tournament arc, maybe?


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